


I will walk though hell to share my wings with you

by MatildaSwan



Series: Whispers of a Myth [2]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternative Universe - Secret Six, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Elinor Lives, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fallen Angels, Graphic Description, Luci is the Devil, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, The Devil and the Underworld, Vauge crossover - The Wicked + The Divine, like she is dead but she lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9487019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: They both knew Bernie knew she would do anything in the world for Serena, if Serena would only ask.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to @merlystreeeps who made the gif!set that started this dang angst!fic: http://merylstreeeps.tumblr.com/post/156085052047/even-if-were-breaking-down-we-can-find-a-way-to
> 
> Oh yeah, forgot to say that this draws a whole bunch from one of Gail Simone's "Secret Six" storylines. Secret Six is a super great comics series (tho v morally ambiguous and super squicky) and I would highly recommend everyone read it.
> 
> CW: Blood and Body Horror

“Give her back to me!”

Thinking back, Bernie knows that was exact moment it all started: the exact moment that drove her to where she isnow. 

“Give her back to me!” Serena yells and Bernie lets her pull the file from her grasp. 

It was a slip of the tongue screamed in the heat of the moment. Bernie starts, taken aback by the force of Serena’s tone: she had barely raised her voice higher than a broken monotone in weeks. Bernie stands there with her mouth open and her heart breaking and does not say a word. 

“Them,” Serena corrects herself. “Give them back to me.” 

Serena holds the folder against her chest. Serena holds to file to over her heart like it can offer some sort of explanation as to how all this has happened. Holds the folder tight in her fists as if it is something precious that can help in a misguided attempt to find some reason in a situation that will never, ever, makes sense. 

It hurts Bernie to see Serena like this and has done for weeks. It hurts Bernie to see Serena’s eyes red and desperate and her face etched with so much pain and confusion and grief. But not nearly as much as she knows Serena is hurting; has been hurting since Bernie walked into Jason’s hospital room with a cloud on her face and a lump in her throat and broken Serena’s life apart.

“I would if I could,” Bernie whispers in the office. “If I could bring her back to you, you know I would.”

Serena does know; knows that Bernie would do almost anything in the world if Serena only asked. The anger stemming from Jasmine and Morven’s intrusion that had kept her upright for a time; the rage still burning when Bernie entered the office and found her pouring over files detailing the treatment of her dead daughter leaves her. Itfizzles out leaving her limp and tired and empty. 

“But I can’t, Serena,” Bernie says. “I’m sorry, no one can.”

Serena drops the file on the desk and her knees give way a little. She stumbles and Bernie catches her; pulls her into a fierce hug. Serena turns into the comfort of a warm body and wraps her arms around Bernie, squeezing tight. Bernie keeps whispering apologies into her hair as she rubs her back and Serena feels her eyes well up. 

“You’re right, I know,” Serena mumbles into Bernie’s shoulder and tightens her grip around her waist. “No one on earth can.”

If Bernie had understood what Serena had meant by that things might be different. If Bernie had registered the weight of that tiny addition to a simple sentence she might have gathered Serena’s intention before it was too late. If Bernie had grasped the gravity of Serena’s thoughts she might have been able to stop her. She might have, but if Bernie is brutally honest with herself — the type of brutal honestly she can with only give others when pushed to the limit of her patience; the type of brutal honestly she can only mange with herself in the dark of night with too much whisky in her belly — Bernie knows she could never have stopped her. 

 

*

 

Something changes, after that day in the office, in Serena and between them. She stops drinking as much, capping herself at one bottle of red a night instead of opening the second. Bernie takes that as a good sign. Serena manages work with as much grace as she can muster: her once warm bedside manner becoming, at best, clipped but still as brilliant a surgeon as ever. Bernie counts that as a win as well.

But the brusqueness extends out to the home where Serena’s short fuse and quicker temper really thrive. She snaps far more readily than ever before. Bernie bears the brunt of it but Jason gets his fair share and Bernie soon began to feel the strain of mediating between Serena and Jason every time she spends the night. 

Feels further strained because Serena barely touches her anymore. The lack sticks in Bernie throat: such a stark departure to the early days of Serena’s grief. When Serena constantly craved body contact and buried herself into Bernie’s embrace every night. Bernie had held her as she cried and cried and cried, silently praying this would pass as Serena sobs out her heart. 

Now Serena just mumbles a goodnight as she turns off the lamp; turns her back to Bernie as she settles into the mattress and sleep solidly on her side of the bed. She does not touch her during the day either: never reaches out to stroke an arm or a back and flinches if Bernie tries to do anything of the kind for her. 

Bernie never, ever, thought she would want to repeat those early nights: a sobbing Serena in her arms that she soothed to sleep with kisses. But now they barely touch and rarely kiss and somehow this is worse. 

It was less that Serena became distant — distant was something she already was and had been since Elinor’s accident — and more that she stayed distant. Serena stayed distant and prickly and broken inside. She keeps her hands to herself as if touching Bernie might cut her too. 

They drift and drift and drift until Bernie wakes up one night in a cold empty bed. She panics, races out of the room and down the stairs. She finds Serena asleep on the couch: a blanket thrown over her knees and creases on her cheek. She cannot bear to wake her: pulls another blanket over Serena’s shoulders and leaves her there to sleep. Bernie returns to the empty bed to stare at the ceiling until the sun starts to rise. 

She tries to talk to her about it, that morning over breakfast. Serena ruffles at the enquiry, says that she just needed some space. She pauses for a moment before suggesting Bernie go home for the weekend. Bernie looks down at her toast to hide the hurt on her face: smooths her features and looks up at Serena. She sees no space for discussion so agrees, swallowing her reluctance, and offers come over after her shift on Monday. Serena nods with a small smile and shuts the front door behind Bernie when she leaves for work.

Bernie wakes up on Saturday and debates whether she should even get out of bed. She stares a the wall for a few hours until her phone vibrates. Its a message from Cameron, checking in on her. She smiles, replies, and gets up to get eat. She sits on the couch with some dry toast and wonders what else should do with her life. 

Bernie receives exactly one other text that day, from Serena: just a quick ‘thank you for understanding’. She replies with ‘always x’ and goes back to staring at the wall and willing the time to pass quicker. Eventually she cannot stand the stagnant air of her too small apartment and calls the hospital. Asks if they need a hand. Ends up working a double shift to keep herself occupied. She slumps into her bed on Sunday night exhausted to the bone; she wake up and rubs sleeps out of her eyes and does not remember dreaming. 

Her shift on Monday is packed and she leaves work slightly late. Arrives at Serena’s house with dinner, apologising profusely for being twenty minutes late, only to find they had both already eaten. That Serena is very tired and about to head to bed. About to go to bed alone. Bernie feels like she had been punched in the gut but does not argue: simply kisses Serena’s cheek goodnight and drives home. The Thai meant for three lasts her the rest of the week. 

They stop sharing a bed. Bernie spends most of her evenings at Serena’s but drives herself home every night: after Jason was asleep and Serena winding down for the night. Bernie falls asleep each night hoping Serena is doing the same.Knows she never does because she can see the bags under Serena’s eyes when ever their shifts overlapped. Seeing Serena like this bruises her already broken heart until it bleeds; she knows that Serena’s heart is in a much, much worse state.

 

*

 

The weeks pass and things stay tense. It tugs at her heart, the false closeness that Serena has fostered between them; she endures it because this is what Serena needs. Serena continues to keep Bernie at arms length: pushing her away but never properly letting her go. Bernie continues to stay because she cannot bring herself to pull free, not when she can still feel Serena’s grip tight on her elbows.

Their disjunction continues until one night, when Bernie is in the kitchen stacking the dishwasher. Serena and Jason are in the living room: her reading and he watching tv. Bernie hears the television flick off as she starts wiping down the benches. Jason comes in to say good night before heading to bed. Bernie finishes the kitchen and dries her hands. Makes her way to the living room to say her own goodbye. 

“Kitchen is done, I’ll be off now,” Bernie says, bushing a brief kiss to Serena’s cheek before turning to head towards the hall. 

“Stay,” Serena says, soft and pleading. Bernie stops half way across the room. “Stay the night?”

Bernie turns to look at Serena with a face full of confusion. Serena puts her book down and gets up off the couch; Walks over to Bernie and gently strokes her arms.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been lately, for pushing you away.” Serena looks at the floor with her fingers on Bernie’s forearms. “Everything was just to much and I—I was completely overwhelmed.” Serena pauses for amount, takes a shaky breath. “Thank you, for not leaving,” she whispers.

“Never,” Bernie whispers back, her heart thumping in her chest.

“Stay?” Serena asks again, looking up with big wanting eyes that Bernie could never, ever, say no to. “Stay the night with me?” 

“Of course,” Bernie replies, her chest a strange mix of relief and uncertainty. Serena nods and slips her hands into Bernie’s. Looks down at the floor again before looking up and leaning forward to press her lips against the corner of Bernie’s mouth. 

Serena lets go of one hand and holds the other firm, brushes past Bernie to lead her up the stairs. Their grip breaks halfway up the hall. She opens the bedroom door, grabs her pyjamas and goes straight to the ensuite.

Bernie shuts the door behind her, stripping off her jeans and shirt. She pads over to what used to be her drawer and finds a few things of hers still in there: things she never managed to take home and forgot about leaving behind. She takes off her singlet and bra and pulls on the oversized shirt. Serena comes out of the bathroom; gets into bed as Bernie goes to brush her teeth. Sees her toothbrush still in the holder beside Serena’s and for a second it is as if the past months never happened. 

Bernie comes out of the bathroom to find Serena sitting up in bed. She pulls up a corner of the blanket as Bernie walks over to the bed. Serena tilts her head in invitation and Bernie slips under the covers. She shuffles down the mattress until her head rests on the pillow. Serena turn to flick off the lamp then follows suite, wiggling closer to the middle of the bed and Bernie as they both get comfortable.

By force of habit Bernie’s hand rests itself on Serena’s hip and they both tense. Bernie pulls her hand away with a muffled apology. Serena grabs her hand and put it back: presses it firm.

“No, stay,” she whispers in the dark. Bernie can feel puffs of air on the tip of her nose. “I want you to hold me, please?”

Bernie shuffles closer to Serena and envelops her in her arms. Serena buries her head in the crook of Bernie neck, chin just below the collarbone. Serena gently tangles their legs together and Bernie feels her whole body relax. The warmth of Serena’s body against hers a feeling of home and comfort and peace so pure Bernie almost cries. 

Minutes pass and the room is silent except for their breathing. Bernie feels Serena press a light kiss to her collarbone. She smiles, drops a kiss on top of her Serena’s hair and pulls her closer. Serena presses another gentle to her collarbone, then presses a firmer to the hollow of Bernie’s neck. Bernie cannot help the sigh that falls from her slightly parted lips. 

Serena start kissing up Bernie neck and Bernie hums. Serena’s tongue darts out to taste the hint of salt on Bernie’s skin; Bernie extends her neck slightly, pushing her face into the pillow. Serena teeth scrapes over the scar tissue of Bernie’s neck and she gasps. She is shaking by the time Serena brushes her lips against an earlobe but she tightens her grip on Serena’s shoulder and pushes her back slightly.

“Serena, are you sure?” Bernie asks, her voice equal parts hesitancy and desire: the two too tightly wound together to untangle. 

“I want you,” Serena whispers against Bernie’s cheek. “Please?” she begs. Bernie feels her stomach sink though the mattress onto the floor below and she flips Serena onto her back.

“Anything for you,” Bernie replies and kisses her deeply. She feels Serena melt into the mattress beneath her as they kiss for the first time in far too long. Bernie trails her mouth down Serena’s sternum and mumbles into her skin. “Anything at all.” 

It is slow and tender and thorough. Neither of them are in a rush as they trace and graze and touch. Bernie mouth plays with Serena’s nipples, licking and biting while Serena writhes beneath her. Serena’s hand snakes down between Bernie’s thighs, fingers teasing and light. A thumb brushes against Bernie's clit and her orgasm takes them both by surprise: sharp and fierce and blinding. Bernie rolls off Serena and slumps into the mattress, gasps out an apology, and bursts out laughing. Serena giggles for a moment and the sounds fills Bernie heart till she thinks it might burst. 

She rolls back and kisses Serena, reapply herself to the task at hand. Runs her hand down Serena’s stomach and slips her fingers through slick folds. Pushes two fingers into her hot wet centre and hears Serena cry out. Bernie whispers in Serena’s ear as she fingers her: tells her how good she feels and how much she missed this until Serena is quivering. Bernie whispers how much she missed Serena, how much she loves Serena. Until Serena comes with tears in her eyes and begs Bernie not to stop. 

Bernie shuffles, up her knees: shifts her wrist and crooks her fingers. Serena pushes down her hand, whimpering as she grinds. Bernie leans forward to take a nipple in her mouth and presses her thumb firm on Serena’s clit and Serena comes again. 

Serena shakes and moans and cries out. Comes back to herself and cries: cries and sobs and shakes in Bernie’s arms. Bernie holds her close, tears falling onto her collarbone so hot they burn. She holds Serena, presses her lips to the top of her head as she stokes her back. Waits for the shaking to subside, repositions them slightly, keeps stoking her back. Feels Serena relax next to her, face slightly dewy but even breathes, and falls asleep. Bernie wakes still tangled in Serena and feels the most rested she has in months. 

 

*

 

Bernie makes bacon and eggs for breakfast and Serena handles the toast. They bump hips when Serena turns to get the butter from the fridge. Bernie apologies and Serena smiles: a proper smile, that pulls at the corner of her mouth and creases her dimples slightly. Bernie almost tips the eggs out onto the stovetop for looking at Serena. Serena shyly runs her fingers through her hair and goes about buttering the toast and Bernie thinks her heart might burst. 

They sit at the counter to eat: salt and pepper stood between them as their legs swing above the floor. They finish eating and dump their plates by the sink. Bernie heads upstairs to have a shower: hears Serena call out when she gets to the third step.

“I, ah, before you go I…” Serena trails off. “Oh, never mind. Go get ready and I’ll talk to you when you’re done.”

Bernie nods, slightly baffled, and goes to shower. She comes back scrubbed and cleaned and slightly damp in fresh clothes to find Serena sitting on the floor of the living room surrounded by books. Bernie stops on the edge of the tome circle and looks at Serena quizzically.

“I’ve been doing some reading lately—when I can’t sleep, ” Serena says by way of explication. “Actually, quite a lot of reading. And umm, I found something.” She pauses, takes a huge breathe and rolls her shoulders back, looks Bernie dead in the eye before continuing. “A way to bring her back.”

Bernie stares Serena, confused and unbelieving. She cannot have heard what she thought she had. The silence drags on and on, until Bernie blinks and breaks the lull. “What are you talking about?” 

“I found a way, to being Elinor back,” Serena elaborates and the absence of tears in her eyes frightens Bernie. 

“God, Serena, no, that’s impossible.” Bernie walks towards her, worried for the first time that Serena’s grief might have actually broken her: not just her heart by her mind. “Serena, is she is _dead._ She died and you held a funeral and cremated her and scattered her ashes.” 

Bernie never thought she would hear herself talk about Elinor’s death in such frank terms, but the look of resolve and confidence on Serena’s face terrifies the life out of her and she knows Serena believes every word she just said. “You can’t bring her back, Serena, please listen to me,” Bernie begs. “It is _impossible_.”

“I know. But I found a way anyway,” Serena says calmly and keeps talking as bile rises in Bernie’s throat. 

As first Bernie thinks Serena has tipped entirely: lost any and all connection to lucidity. Then Serna keeps talking, actually explains how to do the impossible and somehow it hardly matters that this is impossible, because Serena has, in fact, found a way to bring Elinor back. Bernie’s mind completely overruns with fear when she begins to wonder if maybe it might work. Then Serena shows Bernie how to bring Elinor back from the dead. Somehow it all made sense and Bernie has never been more scared in her life.

 

*

 

Serena invites the Devil into her home. Invites the fallen angel into her domain with a need in her heart so strong it screams louder than damned souls begging for absolution. Serena welcomes Lucifer into her living room with open arms and a soul offered forward for the taking.

They stand tall and proud in a tailored suit: platinum white hair, azure blue eyes and smile curled cruel, as if they know even secret in the world.

They probably do, thinks Bernie: she cannot move.

“I want my daughter back,” Serena explains and the Devil listens. “I want her back, unharmed, how she was before the accident. And I want her to live, a happy and full life. Can you make that happen?”

“Yes, of course I can,” Lucifer says playfully, dusting the shoulder of their jacket. As if bring someone back from the dead is child’s play.  
****

Perhaps it is, Bernie wonders, but cannot ask: her mouth stuck shut despite the scream writhing in her throat.

“Then I want to offer a trade, my life for my daughter’s. You can have my soul if you bring Elinor back.”

“Agreed,” Luci says with a laugh.

Bernie mouth unclamps and the scream in her throat rushes out. Her legs unglue themselves from the floor and she runs towards Serena.

“Jesus, Serena, what are you doing?” Bernie holds Serena by the shoulders and fights the urge to shake her. Luci shudders at the name but neither notice.

“I’m getting Elinor back,” Serena says, tone relaxed and lucid.

“God, Serena, you can’t!” Bernie all but yells in her face. “Please stop, don’t do this.”

“It’s already done,” the Devil’s voice interrupts and Bernie ignores it.

“Please, Serena!” Her name a pray and a plea. “Not like this,” Bernie begs and caresses Serena’s cheeks.

“I have to, it’s the only way.” She leans her forehead against Bernie’s and sighs. “I can’t go on like this. Please understand?” Serena implores and Bernie refuses. 

“How do you think Elinor will feel, knowing you gave you life for her?” It is desperate and manipulative and Bernie does not care one jot if it keep Serena here with her. Serena pulls away.

“Better than I feel living my life without her,” she says,clipped voice and determined face. “Look after them for me, please?” Serena asks and her face softens. She knows she need not ask and Bernie cannot manage a nod but Serena hears her all the same. “I love you,” Serena says, reaching out to trace Bernie’s knuckles with her fingertips one last time before turning to take the Devil’s hand. 

She is gone before Bernie has a chance to say goodbye. 

Elinor stands in the space Serena inhabited a moment ago: barely two feet from Bernie. Elinor stands there as thin and snarky and fresh faced as the day they met. Bernie thinks of how pallid her face was in the morgue. Elinor stands there in jeans and a skin tight top with open shoulder. Bernie thinks of dress they cremated her in. 

“Bernie, where’s mum?” Elinor asks, voice confused and suspicious. As if she already knows the answer but does not want to believe. Or perhaps she is closer to cannot quite believe it, Bernie thinks: Bernie has no idea how she feels about any of this. 

Bernie looks at Elinor and cannot manage a single word of reply. Bernie looks at Elinor and thinks of Serena. Bernie looks at Elinor and breaks: falls to the ground and sobs snot out her nose. 

 

*

 

Bernie tries to settle Elinor into her old life then finds out about the debts and the drugs and thinks better of it. She promised Serena she would look after them, with her heart if not her words, and she meant it. She insist that Elinor stay here, in the house, with her and Jason. Stay here in the house where she does not have to explain how she came back from the dead until they can find a better way.

A few weeks pass in a blur of grief and boredom and miscommunication. The hospital swallows a lie about Serena’s extended sabbatical to Italy and takes her absence in its stride. Bernie's days are a blur of blood and trauma and she comes home to three fingers of whiskey every night. 

She knows that Elinor wants to leave. She knows Elinor cannot leave, not like this. So she finds a better way. Bernie calls in a few favours, greases a few palms and kicks in a few kneecaps to alter offical documents. Says she is going out for milk one morning and comes back with a passport for Ellie McKinnie. Says it is up to Elinor if she stays or goes: Elinor leaves and Bernie focuses on Jason. 

Jason who has been trying his best to understand what happened but still cannot quite manage it. Jason who has now lost two maternal figures in his rather short life, leaving a space that Bernie cannot quite manage to fill. They muddle though as best they can but things are not the same. 

Bernie stops sleeping. Starts spending her time in the hospital to occupy her nights and morning and afternoons and evenings. It is better for Jason if she is not around to mess up his routines. She sits in her office with open paperwork in front of her. Looks at where Serena used to sit and feels empty inside. 

She falls asleep in her chair one afternoon, in the middle of typing paperwork. She has grown used to micro sleeps at random intervals of the day, when she does not have the adrenaline of surgery to keep her focused. She does not fight it: lets her brain sleeps and her subconscious takes over. A moment of clarity hits her hippocampus and she jerks awake; scribbles some words down on a post-it note before they slip from her grasp.

When Raf asks if she would mind pulling an all-nighter she declines; says she has somewhere else to be in reply to his confused face. At the end of her shift she goes to see Hanssen. Suggests they look into finding a temporary replacement for Serena’s position, because she cannot carry the load for the both them anymore. Hanssen looks at her with an eyebrow that says “what’s changed” but says nothing out loud. Bernie keeps her face blank and give nothing away. 

She follows Serena’s lead and starts researching. Bernie starts reading into how to get souls back from hell and finds the rather interesting collection of reading Serena managed to accrue before she… _left_ …to be very useful. She finds a way to get into hell and finds a way to get out of hell scrawled in the margins of ancient and crumbling volume on the occult.  She reading whispers of a “get out of hell” free card hidden between inked sentences. Tries to find something concrete but ends up drawing a blank. Then she realised she does not need the card anyway: either she is coming back with Serena or not coming back at all.

She turns her attention to more practical real world matters. She follows the logic of Serena’s will and transfers the house into Jason’s name and leaves everything else to Elinor. Updates her will and leaves her own things to Charlotte and Cameron. Includes a clause which forces the will to come into effect in the event that she goes missing for over a year. Getting a lawyer to agree to those clauses is difficult but she manages it. 

She takes all of her allocated time off from the hospital at once. Says goodbye to her friends and colleagues. She takes her children out to dinner, tells them they are wonderful and she loves them, and hugs them too tight when they leave. They are both too embarrassed at Bernie’s overt display of emotion to say anything and they miss the weight in her tone when she says goodbye. She says goodnight to Jason and adds that she is proud of the man he has grown up to be as he walks up the stairs. She leaves a letter for Elinor on the kitchen counter as a precaution.  
****

She says goodbye to almost everyone she loves and leaves in the middle of the night. 

 

*

 

Bernie marches straight into the fires of the underworld. She marches straight up to the devil, sitting pretty on their throne. She looks Luci in the eye and says, “I am here for my wife and I am not leaving here without her.”

The Devil looks down at Bernie, spite in their eye and a glimmer in their voice, and laughs. Their laughter is warm and rich like a scorching fire; their laugher is cruel and sicking like twenty fives years of regret. It sends a shiver down Bernie’s spine and a warmth in her belly: it makes Bernie’s throat rile and her skin crawl. 

“Oh, I know of the one you think you speak,” they says, lips curled sharp. “But I think you’ll find she is to be my wife.”

Bernie ears roar above the crackle and hum of the underworld and yet the Devil continues talking. 

“The ceremony is this evening. You should see her dress!” Luci gestures above Bernie’s head. “I know it goes against tradition but I couldn’t help myself.” 

Bernie turns to see Serena walking towards the Devil’s throne. Turns to see Serena draped in moonlight and steel and vines growing from forehead: thick, knotted, willowed vines wrapped around the back of her head, trailing down her back, her arms, her torso. Drops of blood stain protruding thorns: drops of blood stain marble white skin.

Bernie feels her heart break: bust open and into pieces and pour red raw blood into the shell of her body. Bernie had not thought that possible, did not think she had unbroken bits of heart left. 

Serena looks at Bernie with glazed, vacant eyes that show not a hint of recognition. Serena looks past Bernie towards the throne and a fire burns in her sight. It is true, Bernie thinks, the Devil has claimed her as one of their own. Serena looks right through her and Bernie feels her soul shatter. 

Bernie feels something on her back: warm and hot and burning. Feels something in her back: thick and dull and heavy. Feels something tear at her back: keen and sharp and serrated. Bernie screams. Falls to her knees screaming, tears pouring down her face and spit flying from her mouth: her back torn to ribbons, the skin ripped off her muscles and her flesh burning: searing and scorching and flayed alive. 

She screams and burns until she feel them: a weight so heavy it could crush her, a weight so familiar it might have been there all her life. She feels them tear through the last piece of skin keeping them contained. She feels their edges brush the ground as she kneels in the dirt of the underworld.

She pulls herself to her feet: tear stained face and blood stained back. She rises to her feet: a fallen angel born of her own selfish need and her own selfless love. She stands tall in Lucifer’s chamber and lets her wings unfurl: heavy and glorious and magnificent. Wings of black and plum and the deepest blue.

Berenice Wolfe stands tall in Lucifer’s court and lays waste to every level of hell. 

 

*

 

A day passes. A life time passes. An eternity passes. Still she fights. Fights every henchmen of the Devil: every demon, every tortured soul, every other fallen angel. Fights until there is nothing left but the Devil themself.

Finally, _finally,_ she stops: falls back to the base of Luci’s domain and stands before the Devil on their throne. The Devil looks at the angel before them and listens. 

“I am here for my wife,” Bernie says calmly, blood dripping from a thousand tiny cuts to her flesh. “I am here for my wife and I am not leaving here without her,” she says, drops staining the dirt of the underworld. 

Luci looks at the angel before them and hears her. Hears the truth in her words and the fire in her heart and the steel in her spine. The Devil looks at the angel before them and unbinds Serena from her contact.

Serena comes crashing back to herself. She looks out over hell from a cavern in the rock front that was her cage and her sanctuary. She looks around in confusion. Sees the stone and blood and burning of the underworld, sees the silver and grey of her dress, sees the brown and green of her vines wrapped around her arms. Sees the rock front give way and a bridge leading to the Devil’s thrown. She steps forward and walks towards the floor of hell. She sees Bernie standing in front of her: flesh torn and back bleeding and wings spread wide.

Serena’s voice breaks when she calls to her. Bernie turns her back on the Devil and locks eyes with Serena. Bernie keeps her back to the Devil and walks towards Serena. Keeps her back to the Devil and takes Serena’s hand. Keeps her back to the Devil as she brings Serena back from the dead. They walk out up to the surface and into the light.

Bernie's wings burn away in the sun: the rays shining down bright and fierce burning the feathers ash. She feels the weight of them for the rest of her life: two knots of scar tissue sitting under her shoulder blades.

Serena’s vines fall away in the night, a little more each morning she wakes in the world above: tendrils and leaves curled and withered on her pillowcase. She keeps the thorn scars for the rest of her life: shining white and pale on her skin as she grows old. 

Grows old with Bernie by her side. Bernie by her side along with Elinor and Jason and Cameron and Charlotte. A life where they are both alive and happy and together. 


End file.
